Heartbeat
by Peoplepersonsof DooM
Summary: Loose lips sink ships. "I never needed you! I don't need you at all!" A series of song fics loosely connected, depicting the very turbulent relationship between America and Britain.
1. Somebody That I Used To Know

AN: Had a bunch of ideas based on songs, so I decided to write song fics for them. It's going to be going into angsty territory, but there will be light hearted stuff too if anyone is reading. Writing this to pass the time.

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England didn't know why he was there. The bright, flashing lights, the vibration of the loud music, the constant chatter of the other countries…it was enough to make Arthur scream. It was America's stupid party and he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't attend. He found himself sitting alone on the couch drink in hand, watching everyone else enjoying themselves. America didn't even pay him any mind, the bloody git. He pressed the cold glass of beer to his lips and took a long sip, setting it down on the table in front of him.

"Is everything all right, England?"

England, startled that someone actually spoke to him jumped. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Japan." He smiled weakly his green eyes locking with Kiku's.

"You just seemed lonely by yourself," he said quietly surveying the crowd. "Is something bothering you?"

Arthur squirmed under the scrutiny of Japan's question. Taking a quick glance in the direction of America's voice, he quickly, stood up taking the empty glass with him. "I'm fine…I just need another drink."

Japan knew England was disturbed, but decided to leave it alone with a simple nod. He returned to Italy and Germany chatting on the other side of the room.

England watched him leave with a bit of relief. He stumbled into America's kitchen in search of another drink. On the counter he saw mainly beers and some cheap wines, but he immediately was drawn to the crystal bottle of vodka in front of him. Hastily, he poured the putrid liquid into his glass and chugged it, slamming the glass on the hard marble surface. Ugh. The burning sensation in his throat was almost unbearable.

His view was getting hazy and his head was spinning. What the hell was he doing here? England pressed his hands onto the counter to steady himself. He was beginning to feel sick, the liquor starting to rise up from his stomach. From the other large room he could hear Alfred's laugh, even through the loud music. England grinded his teeth together in irritation.

_**Now and then I think of when we were together**_

Arthur thought of when they used to be so close, the best of friends. He treated America like a brother and had taken care of that bloody twat!

_**Like when you said you felt so happy you could die**_

'Let's go home, America.' England said smiling extending his hand to child. Slowly, the little boy reached out for England's hand and grabbed it. He smiled back at Arthur happily. 'Okay!'

It had been the first time England had truly felt loved by something, this child had picked him, chose him over France to be his big brother.

_**I told myself that you were right for me**_

England cared deeply for America then…and he still did now even though he didn't want to.

_**But felt so lonely in your company**_

As time went on, they had grown distant. America had grown up so quickly, in that short time England had left. They had never fought prior, but soon they disagreed more and more about how America should move forward. Things were changing…and America was becoming more and more rebellious. England had hoped the phase would just pass, but it never did.

_**But that was love and it's an ache I still remember**_

Angrily, England tried to stand up properly without the support of the counter. What did it matter? America didn't seem to care. So why did he? Why couldn't he just move on?

_**You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness**_

Maybe it was like drinking. Whenever he started pouring himself glasses of alcohol, the gears in his mind began grinding. And all thoughts would go back to the same spot: America. He was the one…the one he cared for most. The one that had broken his heart and smashed it into a million pieces and walked all over him.

_**Like resignation to the end, always the end**_

That day in the rain when England pointed his gun at America's face, he couldn't shoot. He could not pull the trigger. The thought of shooting to kill him made him ill. He dropped his gun…he could have tried harder to make him stay, to not leave him, but he didn't.

_**So when we found that we could not make sense**_

England wanted him to stay, he didn't want him to run off into the unknown. Why couldn't he see that? 'You used to be so…great.' Those words! Those words played in Arthur's mind on repeat, like a broken record.

_**Well you said that we would still be friends**_

The tears were streaming down Arthur's face as he staggered out the kitchen leaning against the wall. He paused to help the liquor stay down. After a few years they attempted to talk again. They were considered to be on 'friendly' terms, but nothing was like it used to be.

_**But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over**_

Arthur tried to convince himself it was for the best. He told himself that America was nothing more than idiot that would have ruined what England stood for…yes, that's what he tell himself. Denial was making his heart ache more though. He wasn't believing his own lies at this point.

_**But you didn't have to cut me off **_

Without warning, someone bumped into England pressed against the wall. "Sorry, dude! Didn't see you there!" America said patting England's shoulders.

England looked at him bitterly. "Yes…ju-just like you didn't see mee, f-for the rest of your stupid party," he replied fumbling his words.

"Huh?" Alfred looked at him with surprise. "Sorry, everyone wanted to talk and I just couldn't say no! And it looks like you've been drinking a lot…" he replied smelling England's breath.

"I don't care!" he whined banging on Alfred's chest with his fists. "I hate you! You should jus' go away!"

_**Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing **_

America grabbed England's fist to prevent them from hitting him any further. "Dude, you need to calm down-"

"No, I don't! You treat me like nothing!" he sobbed out. "We aren't even friends! It's all just a bloody lie! Why do you hate me so much?"

_**I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger**_

America's eyes widened. "I don't hate you..." he frowned. Alfred grabbed one of England's arms and began to drag him back into the kitchen.

"Let go of me, you bloody git!" Arthur protested struggling to break free of America's powerful grasp. "I never needed you! I don't need you at all!"

_**And that feels so rough**_

"England-" America started.

"No! Shut up! I hate your guts!" Arthur yelled breaking free of America's grasp wiping his eyes. "Why did you have to leave me?" He slurred out.

_**No, you didn't have to stoop so low**_

"You know why," replied America with a hint of sadness in his voice.

_**Have your friends collect your records**_

England couldn't stop crying. "I just wanted us to bond! I just wanted us to be close…but you teamed up with frog face against me!" The anger and sickness were rising all at once.

_**And then change your number**_

America said nothing, but looked upon the other man with pity. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass to fill with water from the sink. He walked over to England and offered him the glass of water. "Take it," he said.

_**Guess that I don't need that though**_

England slapped the glass out his hand disgusted. "I don't want your damn help! Just…just go away!" He slumped against the wall covering his face with hands. It had been so many years…decades and he couldn't understand why. Why it had all fallen apart.

_**Now you're just somebody that I used to know**_

America's sadness turned to sourness as the glass was flung out of his hands sending glass shards flying and water spilled over the wooden floor. If he really felt this way then fine.

_**Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over**_

"Fine." Alfred said glowering at the other man hunched up against the wall. He had tried to mend their relationship many times. But they would always end up arguing and insulting each other, never once making any progress. "We don't have to be friends. But stop blaming me for everything."

_**Had me believing it was always something that I'd done**_

England was shaking now, dismayed at his words. He ran his fingers through his hair silently.

"You always had me thinking it was my fault…that I destroyed everything." America said folding his arms. "But you never took the time to listen to me. You had just stopped seeing me and then just showed up one day trying to force rules down my throat."

"No," England shook his head. "No…it wasn't like that!"

_**But I don't wanna live that way**_

"You can't just leave someone like that, Arthur." He said sounding bitter too. "I learned to take care of myself. I grew up."

The words were crushing Arthur's being, tearing right through his heart. He hadn't meant to leave America alone, he never wanted to be apart from him. It was the fault of his country trying to mend it's own damage. If he was broken, how could he help America?

_**Reading into every word you say**_

"You would say one thing, and then do another. I was tired, dude."

_**You said that you could let it go**_

Their eyes locked, the blue piercing into the green. "You told me you had moved on." Alfred said resentfully.

"I…can't," Arthur said looking at the ground helplessly. "I tried…but I can't."

He was still feeling ill but sobering up a bit. England only wished he could move on, but that desire was fruitless. He loved America too much. It was killing him.

They remained silent amidst the noise happening outside of the kitchen. The dark feelings were surrounding the two of them like a rain cloud. It was stifling to have so much bad blood in one room. If the past is only in the past why did it appear so much in the present? The past controlled the future and it was one hurdle they could never jump over.

_**And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you **__**used to know**_

"I have to see about my guests." America said slowly leaving the room no longer able to deal with the situation. He paused for moment, but didn't turn to face England. "You used to be so great…What happened to you?" And those were his last words as he left.

England said nothing, as no words could come out of his mouth at this moment in time. He watched him walk away, just like before. And he couldn't stop him. There was nothing he could do to prevent him from leaving. Arthur grinded his fingernails into the floorboards. His tear drops fell onto the floor as he sat unmoving, frozen in time. Once again America had left him lonely, breaking his heart for the second time. And once again England had failed; he let him walk away, he escaped him. It was all for naught. He and America were strangers to each other now, and nothing more. He had hammered the nail into his own coffin. The damage had been done.


	2. Let Me Go

AN:Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs. Thanks for bothering to even look at this story haha. The song for this chapter is "Let Me Go" by 3 Doors Down, written in America's perspective.

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The day was a dark and dismal one as the soldiers stood behind their leader, weapons raised in the pouring rain.

"Hey Britain!" he yelled pointing it at the lone soldier on the other side. "All I want is my freedom. I'm no longer a child or your little brother. So for now on, consider me independent!"

Without warning, Britain charged straight at America with his gun whipping it out of his hands.

"I won't allow it! You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?" England snarled.

He had his gun pointing it directly into America's face. They stood unmoving for what seemed to be an eternity. The glare on his face receded to that of a pitiful torn expression. "There's no way I can shoot. I can't," he said dropping on the ground covering his face while sobbing. "Why? Dammit, why? It's not fair…"

"You know why."

America awoke from his slumber perturbed. He groaned wiping his face with his hand. The same dream again. He turned over on his right side in bed annoyed. He was fully aware of the fact that sleep would be an impossible goal at this point. He'd spend the rest of the night wide awake thinking.

_**One more kiss could be the best thing**_

Alfred wished the dream wouldn't occur so often, no, rather it didn't occur at all. And the worst part was that it was so vivid! The bleak atmosphere, the muddied grounds, that desperate sorrowful look upon England's face…He wanted the past to stay in the past, but that was never really the case. The dreams and the memories were something that would not cease. Like a cloud, they hung over him constantly reminding him of what was.

He sat up in bed and rubbed the back of his head sighing. Sometimes, he wished he could build a time machine so he could go back in time to fix everything…maybe he had better talk to Japan about that. Alfred never wanted to leave England in that manner; he at least wished he could have said a proper goodbye without raising a bayonet at the guy.

_**But one more lie could be the worst**_

He ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled bitterly. Who was he kidding? Considering the circumstances it wouldn't have been possible. America wasn't pleased to begin with especially when negotiations with England just lead to nowhere. Alfred's pleads fell upon death ears and it was determined that it was time to move on. He left him alone for such a long time only to return with numerous rules and regulations. It didn't make any sense to Alfred. Was he just another colony to England? Arthur told him he cared about him, but it didn't feel like it.

_**And all these thoughts are never resting**_

Maybe, if we could have talked about everything, they wouldn't have had to fight, he thought to himself. But what good is speculation? He was certainly glad that he was his own nation, but he often wondered if he could have prevented the war and perhaps went about becoming a country in another way. At least in that sense, their relationship with each other wouldn't be so…broken.

_**And you're not something I deserve**_

He frowned remembering the incident at his party a couple of months ago. England would always bring up their relationship when he was plastered, but that time had been particularly bad. America had had some coarse words for England then. Reflecting upon it, Alfred thought he had been too hard on England and made attempts to apologize. However, Arthur gave him the cold shoulder and would snub him more frequently during meetings now more than ever. And maybe he had the right to. America felt responsible for the sadness that had taken hold of England. When was the last time he smiled happily? he wondered. He smiled far more frequently before they split. He had become so much more reserved, refined, and cold and it hurt Alfred to see him like that. He hadn't always been a stick in the mud. They had fun together, but now America wasn't sure England knew what the word fun meant anymore.

_**In my head there's only you now**_

Alfred didn't hate England as the other man believed. On the contrary, he cared about him a lot whether he wanted to admit it or not. No matter how many times they fought and hurt each other he could never bring himself to hate the man, though there were times where he felt like he did.

_**This world falls on me**_

America always had a child like demeanor that could be deemed optimistic, hopeful and playful. People had the impression that he was foolish, arrogant, and was oblivious to the things around him. Were they wrong? Not entirely. However, he wasn't as dumb as he looked. By acting a like kid he could escape most pressing situations and continue to look ahead to a brighter future. He didn't have to feel that hurt as often as the others. Sometimes, his way of life was the only thing that kept him going. He wasn't oblivious; he knew when things were wrong. There was just a time to address things and a time to carry on. And America learned this the hard way, at first struggling to build a functioning nation.

_**In this world there's real and make believe**_

The real world and the fantasy world were intertwined at times for Alfred. The reason he believed in heroes was because of Arthur's fairy tales he told America as a child. The stories of knights rescuing princesses from evil monsters, the wizards who saved the world from destruction, the happy endings, this all resonated with him and stuck with him throughout the course of his life. England told him to get his head out of the clouds and join the rest of the crowd in reality. But to face reality would mean to face the truth, the truth that neither wanted to confront.

_**And this seems real to me**_

Alfred dreamed of setting things right with Arthur. Dreamed. It never worked in the real world, proven time after time. A discussion turned to fist fight, a shattered glass on the floor to hands wrapped tightly around ones throat, and it never settled anything. They always said time heals all wounds, but the wounds were never properly covered, always left out in the open only to be infected again and again. Eventually, the open sores would find the right virus. And eventually, that virus would kill them.

_**You love me but you don't know who I am**_

He wanted to scream. How many more sleepless nights awaited him? Why did his thoughts always come back to Britain? Alfred was frustrated beyond belief.

_**I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand**_

He remembered the days leading up to the revolution. America thought and thought about it. At first he was against leaving, perhaps talking would fix things. He wasn't sure if an all out war would be a good thing. The prospect was scary; a colony taking on a well established country seemed unreasonable. And if he did go against England, there was no turning back. It put him at odds with the man who he cared about deeply as a friend. Would he really be willing to carry through such a plan against the man who had given him so much?

_**And you love me but you don't know who I am**_

But God! Britain didn't understand. He didn't understand anything! It felt like he just wanted to have complete control over America without any consideration to how he felt! If England cared so much about him, why did he only seriously listen to his concerns until the threat of war?

_**So let me go**_

That was it. America no longer considered himself English. England treated him like a little brother until he vanished for only to reappear and be so inconsiderate and distant. Alfred demanded England either lifted the taxes and allow political meetings amongst the people or else war was coming.

_**Let me go**_

"But that's ridiculous! I won't give into such requests, you were acting out of hand!" said England upset at the notion of war.

"And it wasn't ridiculous when you began taxing tea without warning?" questioned America folding his arms. "It's hard enough as it is with the stamp tax!"

"Look, it's for your benefit-"

"My benefit? What the hell about the quartering act? I don't want some soldier in my house, that I have to take care of!" yelled America. "I'm tired of this! You never listen to my ideas or issues and you just give me more problems to deal with on my own!"

"America, I just want to help you like I've always did! But dumping tea into the harbor isn't what you should do for gaining attention! It was only right that I handled the situation in that fashion!"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Britain! It's time you acknowledge that! You abandoned me and then you come back acting like you own me! If you don't see things my way then fine! Prepare yourself for a fight!" America yelled storming out of the house.

_**I dream ahead to what I hope for**_

America stood up from his bed rubbing his temples, trying to push the memory from his mind. He walked out of his untidy bedroom down the stairs to his kitchen. He figured the best way to calm himself was to grab a beer. Alfred entered the dark room flipping the light switch on and opened his fridge pulling out an aluminum can. He took a seat at the kitchen table, cracked the beer open, and took a long sip. He was always hopeful, for most things. But when it came to England, the childlike view of the world began to whither.

_**And I turn my back on loving you**_

The more he thought about it, the more he gave up on the idea of mending a broken a heart. He sat the can on the table sighing. There was so much bitterness, resentment, and animosity…how did a hero go about curing such an ailment? As much as he cared for England, maybe it was time to forget about trying to save him and this relationship between them.

_**How can this love be a good thing**_

The biggest problem was England's belief that America left him just out of spite. For the guy calling him a dumbass frequently, he was retarded himself! What would it take to prove to him that America did give a damn about him?

_**When I know what I'm going through**_

Again, he wasn't listening. Why on Earth did England think America was so loud and noisy to begin with? The louder you are, the more people listen. If only he listened when America told him he didn't hate him. If only.

They both played an active role into the deterioration of anything remotely resembling a friendship. It was taking a toll on both of them. America could hold himself together far better than England could, but even heroes grow tired.

_**And no matter how hard I try**_

He raised his can and chugged the rest of the liquid, slamming the empty can on the wooden table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a breath feeling hopeless. It seemed no matter what he did…

_**I can't escape these things inside I know I know**_

…America couldn't escape the truth, reality, fact. The truth was that he loved him. The reality was that he wasn't as happy as he could be. The fact being that he was once again left alone to his own devices. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

_**When all the pieces fall apart**_

England was his closest friend. They had understood each other at one point. America's eyes watered. He remembered a time without fights or heated arguments, a time when they actually enjoyed and appreciated each other's company, and a time where they held a sense of pride about their friendship. He cried. Where had they gone wrong?

_**You will be the only one who knows who knows**_

Maybe one day England would see a badly beaten person who was only a shell of what they once were. A person always smiling despite the urge to break down and cry. If the day ever came, America thought, he would be able to understand.

_**you love me but you don't know who I am**_

Would the day ever come? Would Britain ever be able to understand him? It was clear that England cared for America still, but England was blind to the fact that Alfred cared for him as well. He loved America dearly, but even after all of this time he didn't know America. He didn't know America cared.

_**I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand**_

America always seemed to find himself at a crossroads. Devote time to a fruitless effort or move on? He just wanted to go back to a better time. He just wanted to go home.

_**And you love me but you don't know Who I am**_

I tried my best, he thought. America tried to be clear about feelings, with a number of failed attempts. For giving up, he was willing to try a few more times. There were still some things he needed to say. Even if he refused to listen or call him a liar, it was still necessary.

_**So let me go**_

America stood up from the table without pushing his chair in. He left his can on the table and left the room shutting off the lights. Clumsily, Alfred groped around in the dark looking for the banister to his staircase leading upstairs. He made his way back to his room without falling or tripping miraculously. Feeling despondent, the American crawled back under the covers.

_I miss you. _

_**Just let me go**_

Admitting defeat, America lie flat on his back looking up at the ceiling. It seemed he could not move forward either. The future seemed as helpless as the past. The lingering feelings would kill him one day, he mused. But they did not change.

_I love you._


End file.
